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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136806">Sparkly Boots; what could have been</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marrtian/pseuds/marrtian'>marrtian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluffy, Jobs can be dull, Light Angst, Slice of Life, Yassen's life can't all be brandishing dangerous things</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:15:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,298</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136806</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marrtian/pseuds/marrtian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Yassen thinks about what his life could have been like. Sometimes he gets to have a small glimpse into the blessed quietness of civilian life. And sometimes, he is a part of them, just for a moment</p><p>He holds those moments quite near to his heart, even though Hunter would absolutely batter him for it if he weren't dead.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sparkly Boots; what could have been</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Excuse me mister.”</p><p>Yassen glanced down at the curious face of the girl tugging on his trousers. His eyes raked their surroundings, ignoring the mindless milling of comer and goes, trying to find the child’s mother.</p><p>“Excuse me. Mister security man,” the piping voice became more incessant, and Yassen sniffed coolly, detaching himself carefully from the girl’s little fists.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I lost my mama.”</p><p>But of course she did. It couldn’t have been shone more obviously if a neon sign screaming ‘lost child’ was lit above the child’s head. He sometimes wondered, almost in a strange awe, about the kind of innocent obliviousness to the world only children had. “I can see.”</p><p>“Can you find her?”</p><p>Yassen considered foisting the small creature on an unsuspecting passerby but retracted the idea as soon as it came. No. He had a cover to keep up here. Best play the simple part of a security muscle for any watching eyes.</p><p>He looked at the girl’s pleading eyes, noticing with faint horror that they were watery despite her cheerful outlook on what must be a bleak situation for a four-year-old to be in.</p><p>“Come.”</p><p>He drew the line at carrying her. She was old enough to walk.</p><p>Her little boots lit up in a flash of red, purple, and blue as she trotted after him, sniffling bravely every so now and then.</p><p>Yassen wound in and out the mob of fans, nose wrinkling in annoyance at the loud obnoxiousness of a few overeager lads. “Stay with me,” he muttered, and shot a quick look at the child who was nearly jogging to keep up with him. He frowned. It would be too much of an inconvenience to lose her.</p><p>A particularly irritating woman shoved past them, and the girl stumbled. Her bottom lip wobbled threateningly.</p><p>Yassen blinked in alarm. A quiet child would be much easier to look after than a screaming one. Especially considering that children tended not to cooperate when leaking a waterfall of water from their eyes. He closed his eyes for a moment. There was no other way to get them both into the stadium’s office as quick as possible.</p><p>He spun around and scooped the girl up, stiffening slightly when she rested her wet cheek on his shoulder. Right. He coughed slightly, feeling strangely warm inside. He shoved down the strange emotion and focused on keeping her steady. The brisker he walked the more efficient he was.</p><p>The smell of hotdogs and motor exhaust smothered everything, and the cool stone pavements were covered in all sorts of sticky substances that stuck to his boots as he stepped up onto the little porch in front of the offices.</p><p>He swung the cloudy glass door open, and a young, bored looking fellow looked up from whatever he was doing on the computer. The bleeping sounds that very clearly was from a game of some sort cemented Yassen’s guess that whatever the boy was doing, it wasn’t anything of use.</p><p>“You alright?” The boy’s eyes slid over to the girl, who had mercifully kept her tears at bay. Mostly. A look of understanding dawned on his face, and he gestured lazily to the intercom systems.</p><p>Yassen stifled an involuntary biting remark about the lack of care the young man had for the girl and put himself back in check. It was just another lost girl out of many that day. He smoothed back the girl’s hair out of her face as he sat her on the desk.</p><p>She kicked her legs back and forth, banging the metal softly and Yassen pointed a finger at her face. Her eyes stared back at him full of childish trust in adults. “Stop.”</p><p>She stopped. “Will you call my Mama?”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>This seemed to be enough for the child, and she cheered up instantly. She bent her body backwards to look at the computer screen. The boy bristled as she blocked his game.</p><p>"What's your name?" </p><p>The girl turned her attention over at Yassen and nodded at him as if she knew exactly how this worked. How many times had she done this? Yassen mused at the probable exhaustion of the mother as the girl- Lizbeth Beck- rattled off her name and her mother's. He repeated the information into the systems and clicked the microphone shut.</p><p>"Do you like my bracelet?"</p><p>Yassen peered at the strange contraption. "That's not a bracelet, it's a stick," he corrected her, and she giggled at him like she'd just pulled the world's best trick. Yassen picked her up again, and she slung an arm around his neck. </p><p>"Look," she told him, slamming the thing onto his wrist.</p><p>Yassen almost reared back in shock. Lizbeth laughed gleefully and he stared at her in a newfound light. God. If it were anyone other than the child he would have had them pinned down on the ground them purely by instinct. Children were absolutely fearless.</p><p>He took her over to one of the office's two sad looking chairs and deposited her on one of them. "Sit."</p><p>The boy snorted. He had his legs up on the desk and looked amused. "She's not a puppy." </p><p>Yassen ignored the irritating boy- Oscar, if his nametag was accurate- with all the cool, calm and collected composure of an international criminal. He unwound the hideous pink and purple bracelet and snapped it back into it's original form. "Here's your bracelet," he said, handing it to the child. She obligingly slapped the bracelet onto her own wrist. It hung too big. "Here's a book," he gave her one of the children's magazines which lay strewn on the desk, presumably for the exact reason the girl was here. "Entertain yourself, <em>пчелка</em>."</p><p>"Cool Russian," Oscar crowed, suddenly bright with excitement. "You a spy or something?"</p><p>Yassen sighed. "Ex-soldier." The more people that knew of his cover the better. </p><p>The boy's excitement faded and he sulked, turning back to fiddling with the computer. "Boring."</p><p>"Oh, Liz."</p><p>Yassen turned towards the sound, as the child shrieked in delight and bounded from her chair. Her mother hoisted her up onto her waist. "You had me so worried, darling, don't ever run off like that." She brushed back the girls bangs and kissed her gently. </p><p>"Thank you so much," she breathed, relieved, and Yassen nodded once in acknowledgment, hoping dearly that she would not embrace him the way she looked like she was going to. He was not a good person.</p><p>"Mister security," Lizbeth held out the strange little bracelet-stick. "It's for you." </p><p>Something strange <em>twisted</em> in his heart. He handed her the card he had used to show her how to write <em>пчелка </em>on. She had scribbled a drawing of a bee beneath it.</p><p>"Don't trouble your mother, Lizbeth."</p><p>And the two were gone, just another mother and her daughter in the throes of the world. Yassen let himself feel the strange grief for a life he could have had somewhere in another world- just for a brief minute. He straightened and his fingers flicked towards his holster. Right. He was here for a reason.</p><p>"Cute kid, bro."</p><p>Annoyance flashed over his face, and he drew down his cap. "Yes." He glanced at the brat, Oscar, who cocked his head at him. "Turn the volume down, or the next person might tell on you." </p><p>The boy rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, but as Yassen stepped back outside, determination in his gait, he could hear the clicking of the volume being lowered, and smirked. He was not a good person, but at the very least, he'd saved a kid from getting sacked.</p><p>Something caught his eye on the far left and he <em>moved, </em>sprinting down the side of the building towards the emergency exits.</p><p>Back to work it was.</p><p> </p>
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